


Painfully, Impossibly, Softly

by VictoriannWings



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Poison, Poisoning, Prince!Shiro, Shance Flower Exchange 2018, assassin!Lance, lily of the valley, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriannWings/pseuds/VictoriannWings
Summary: Lotor closed the top button of Lance’s elaborately embroidered dress shirt, a thin smirk spreading across his face. “I think the prince will take great pleasure in you,” he purred, hooking one long fingernail beneath Lance’s chin.Lance nodded, swallowing. Shifting, he tried to pull his gaze away from Lotor’s, but the man held it; the tip of his fingernail pressed sharply into his chin. “Y-yes,” Lance agreed with a weak smile.He needed to do this. He needed to do this for the sake of his family, his siblings at home, Veronica, Marco, and Luis, who sat at home with empty aching bellies and patched and worn clothes.Resolve hardening, Lance brushed Lotor’s hand away and rose out of his chair. The dressing room was small and cramped and once Lance stood, he didn’t really have anywhere to move, except out.And that meant his job would begin.Lotor pressed a small vial into his palm. “Tuck this away, keep it safe. Use it only after you’ve married.” His eyes bored into Lance, and his heart rate rose in response.“Yes, sir.”





	Painfully, Impossibly, Softly

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! This is my Shance Flower Exchange 2018 piece, for feli on tumblr (feliibun on twitter). Please let me know if you want me to gift this to you. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you like it!

The sharp hook of his fingernail beneath my chin  
Lifts it until I am small beneath his smirking gaze.  
Lotor sweeps his eyes over my decorated body,  
Covered in gauzy fabric and sparkling deceit.  
Duty calls, and I am groomed for seduction, encouraged  
To kill. _He_ is a prince: I am a pauper  
With an affinity  
For lilies and my loved ones. I am  
here to dazzle and distract,  
A Venus flytrap, beautiful, enticing,  
Until you're digested by my kiss.

 

Lotor assures me,  
“He will fall for you at first sight.  
Sign his heart over, give you his life.”  
I have  
Counted each step from my old life to this  
Have counted every heartbeat and breath that leads me up the palace stairs  
I am presented:  
 _presented_  
Yes, a gift for a man who knows not my intentions.  
That thought spreads the sweetest of smiles across my face.

 

He is  
Handsome; it strikes me as his eyes  
catch mine (not unlike a fly…. I dismiss that thought).  
“Takashi Shirogane, Prince of this,”  
Prince of a well-muscled body, maybe. I'm trying not  
To let my mouth water.  
They introduce me in all my gauzy splendour,  
Dressed for success, in deep blues and ribbon,  
I am _presented_ , a package to unwrap.  
Is he  
unwrapping me with his entrapped eyes?  
The music wraps its own ribbons around us  
Tightening, winding, until we're drawn together.  
“Call me Shiro,” he purrs, where only I can hear  
All eyes on us and he only has his eyes on _me  
_ (My plan is working; the vial burns in my pocket).

 

The days spin out of control, a whirlwind of lilies  
Lined with lilting ribbons and  
Brilliantly coloured sounds. He is surprisingly quick to trust me  
He is  
Surprisingly a depth I have been unable to reach  
The end of; he enjoys reading to me by the water in the afternoons  
He dances with me, in the spotlight and

 

Then he's the spotlight, growing brighter  
A brilliance of culture and beauty and he _aches  
_ To share it with--with _me_. I swallow my guilt  
Along with his longing gaze on my lips.  
Burning, I hold onto the hunger-lined faces of my siblings  
Echoing in my heart.

 

But Shiro disappears one Tuesday,  
And amongst the chaos of a palace in distress,  
and I realise I know where he is.  
My feet lead me forward before I know where I am slipping off to,  
He’s wearing the shadows like a blanket, protective,  
hidden. He turns at the echo of my footsteps across the stone.  
“How did you find me, Lance?” Voice low, humming, fatigue and worry  
etched into the lines of his face  
Tonight he seems…. _older_.  
The stone is cold but solid, as I sit beside him  
“Here, my responsibilities cannot follow me…”  
Shiro’s gaze collects the shadows of the hidden room like wistful plants  
Wish for flies. My heart aches  
The warmth of his hand is startling, comforting, I think to myself:  
 _I have found home in your touch_ ;  
And the vial of poison is heavy in my pocket.

 

“A king is seen as everything but himself.”  
My response falls on Shiro’s ears and he startles, as if  
Just noticing I’m here. A slow nod, and then,  
“I am pulled in a thousand directions, but sometimes...I just want to be _me_.  
Duty is like a golden chain around my wrists: stylish and sought after,  
But binding. I am destined for greatness  
And to never do my own washing, or plan my own day.”  
My heart twists as I listen. “Perhaps,” I begin,  
“You and I are so not so different.” Marco, Luis, and Veronica’s wide eyes  
Remind me why I am here.  
(My heart tries to convince me there are other reasons).  
“Perhaps, duty can drive us just as it chains us. Perhaps,  
I am bound to marry you, and you, I,  
But our hearts have been brought together for many reasons.”  
The guilt twists its blade deeper into my gut as tears form  
In his gray eyes, silvered and aged beyond this young man’s time.  
Bittersweet, the pressure dissolves from his stiffened form, relaxing, melting,  
Into my arms. I hold him as he unravels the walls he put up  
To keep me out.  
(Not so different, you and I,  
But your death is written on the inside of my shirt  
And I cannot afford to give you all of my heartbeats in return.)

 

I wake up drenched in sweaty terror,  
Beneath my fingertips, Shiro’s eyes turn wide  
His heart slows,

                          s t o p s,

                                         (I don’t know if I can do this)

 

I wake to his smile over breakfast, sweeter than any refined sugar  
In my morning tea.  
Most nights I am as terrified to sleep as sleep is terrified of me.  
He fills all my days with the sound of a grand future, of culture and lilies,  
Of joy and a sketched outline of the word _husband_.  
My nights drown in wicked tears  
Lotor’s pressing grin condemns me to my fate:  
How can I fall in love with the man I am destined to kill?  
(How can I _think_ about killing the man I am destined to fall in love with?)

 

Shiro finds me another Tuesday  
Covered from head to toe in red-handed guilt and  
Sorrow.  
“Forgive me,” I choke on my words, “you know not what I am.”  
Shiro’s fingers are already on my cheek, my face, pulling me into the comfort  
he carries on his chest like a cloak.  
“Lance, my lover,” his soft words might as well be blows to my lungs,  
Winding me, stealing my breath with their implicit unconditional adoration,  
“Trust in me, and our future together knows no bounds.”  
Except I am bound,  
In a duty named Lotor, in a duty  
To feed my family and protect them from the ache of starvation and poverty.  
I have sworn an oath, signed my life to the death of the man before me  
(without me, what will happen to Marco, Luis, to Veronica?  
They are the first loves of my life: no matter how

                                                                              I have fallen

For

       Shiro.

 

(I am a terrible assassin.)

 

I do not sleep better in our wedding bed.  
The lilies loom on every surface, white bells  
hanging from green stems like structures, like  
Threats. The lily of the valley, if ingested,  
Can kill:

              blurry vision,

                                    nausea,

                                                  slow heart rate,

                                                                           and death.

Marriage, if ingested,  
Can kill:

              sprinkle joy over your morning biscuits,

                            smiles punctuated by late night confessions and giggles,

                                        I am spinning out of control,

                                                  madly in love,

                                                           memorising every way the corners of his mouth wrinkle

                                                                              as he says my name,

I cannot hold it in any longer.

 

The dawn of our first day of marriage arrives gray and deep.  
Shiro wakes me with soft long-awaited kisses that hold an intensity  
etched with promise.  
I can feel the colours fading  
Every time he touches me: Lotor  
Will be here any second, the dread weighs me down, the dread  
Is killing me. Shiro’s lips are impossibly, painfully soft  
His love is painfully, softly impossible  
(loving me is softly, impossibly painful)  
I am choking on my own confessions  
(if I let this vial burn through my clothes, maybe it will

                                                                                     Kill me instead)

(blurry vision,

                       nausea,

                                    slow heart rate,

                                                             and death.)

 

Upended vial into tea that no amount of sugar can fix,  
I watch the powder dissolve like everything I’ve ever wanted  
(when did this become what I wanted?)  
Shiro smiles at me. “Smells delicious, babe.”  
My heart is pounding, my limbs go numb with fear  
with no emotion, with every emotion  
I cannot breathe  
He’s raising the cup to his lips  
My _husband_ \--he’s--about to drink his death,  
“I am lucky to have you, dearest,”  
\--his eyes are shining like silver--  
“Before you, my life was all routine and endless loops,  
Caught in a tedious cycle, a hopeless array of  
Be here and there and everywhere,  
Be everything but yourself,  
Do everything but be true, and you,  
Lance, you are my heart,”  
 _I can taste the acid all the way up my throat,  
_ “You are my life and my world,”  
 _My fingers are shaking, the cup is so close to his mouth,  
_ _To the end of his life  
_ “And I want to toast to our future together.” Shiro holds the cup high,  
“To the love that made me want to live again,  
That gave me a future and a life I _want_ to live.”

 

I can’t take it anymore:

                                    I smash the teacup out of his hands  
It smashes to the ground in a thousand shatters  
And my lungs are shattering, my heart shatters out my tearducts,  
I am heaving and sobbing and _clinging_ to Shiro  
Bewildered, he clutches my shoulders. “Lover, what’s wrong?”  
I can only shake my head,

                                         The sobs shake my body

I have failed

                     at loving him,

                                           at killing him,

                                                                  at protecting my family

Shiro buries his hands in my hair and his reassurances in my heart  
I can only sob: how many times can I apologise for something unforgivable?  
The confessions tumble from me like blood,  
pouring and gushing and stinging and making me feel weaker by the second.  
I am made out of stuttered gasps and broken pleading admissions  
Lotor, my family, the plot, my feelings--it all tumbles from my lips  
like relief and terror stumbling into hopelessness and anguish, but:  
Softly, impossibly, Shiro’s warm palm presses to my cheek:  
“Lance,” he commands, painfully soft, “Shh. it’s okay.”  
The gentleness of his eyes cradles in me understanding. “I have forgiven you  
For everything. I love you  
like the waves love the shore,

                                               unconditional and constant,

                                                          and when you need space,

                                                                         I will let my edges ebb in the low tide of your eyes.”

The lilies of the valley stare down at the broken teacup on the floor,  
My heart is overflowing and streaming,  
“How can you?” my voice breaks like Shiro’s waves crashing on my sharpened rocks  
“I have intended to _k-kill_ you.” I choke,   
He kisses me, impossibly painful  
(I have never felt like I am the fly until now)  
“Dearest, you were protecting your family. Now,  
We are married and you don’t have to do it alone.”  
His eyes collect the light from his smile. “Now, they’re my family too.  
Now, we protect them together.” He takes my hand like our fingers are inseparable  
I cannot cry any harder  
I cannot do anything but fist my hands in the fabric of his shirt and our future  
As relief washes over me in endless waves  
kissing the shore.

 

I cannot do anything when Lotor hooks his sharp fingernail beneath my chin  
Paralysed, I can barely hear past my thundering heartbeat  
“You were sent here for one purpose,

                                                           and you have failed.”

Fear and anger swirl, clouding, through the burning fog in my brain  
I have spent every waking moment and every nightmare  
with this man’s glaring eyes following my every movement  
His acrid breath on my chin

               cannot stop me

                           from loving Shiro

                                             any longer

I trace my fingertip up Lotor’s livid arm. “This is only the beginning,” I promise,  
(the lie feels good in my empty mouth:

                                                              the fly lands in the sticky sweetness

                                                                                                                      of my trap)

He releases me with a _laugh_ \--  
God, how I long to be with Shiro, in the safety of his arms like  
the waves cradle the shore  
Lotor half pushes me away. “Now, shall we have a toast? To freedom--”  
\--I smile. “To freedom.”  
 _(How my insides tremble.)  
_ Our cups softly _clink_ together, and the hint of a smile graces his thin lips,  
I am holding my breath,  
He takes one sip

                           and his eyes widen;;,,,,,  
I step out of his reach as he lunges for me with a startled gurgle,  
“Fool! You think you can--” his accusations die like the last of my bonds  
and the last of his breath.  
His nails hook into the edge of my leg,  
But I shake him off like dust.

 

The lily of the valley,

                                 popular wedding flower, with white bells and green stems,

(blurry vision,

                      nausea,

                                    slow heart rate,

                                                              and death.)

is poisonous.

 

Shiro’s smile

                    (joyful mornings,

                                              the music of his laugh,

                                                                          walks in the garden,

                                                                                                my heart rising each time he smiles)

is not.

 

He takes my hand like our fingers are inseparable,  
I take his name like it has never been anything else,  
and Marco, Luis, and Veronica move into the palace as if they’ve known no other home.  
 _I have found home in your touch_ ;  
Then he's the spotlight, growing brighter  
The days spin out of control, a whirlwind of lilies  
Lined with lilting ribbons and  
Brilliantly coloured sounds. We are  
Surprisingly a depth I hope to never reach  
The end of.


End file.
